14 November, 2008


Almost two years later, some things change, some things remain the same.

Sometimes you yearn for the old you; the one who danced the night away. You plan to return to the party just as you left it. But then you remember that you actually never danced the night away. More like; you danced for an hour and spent the rest of the time looking for a car park.

Some time ago, while I wasn’t looking, the girl in the mirror grew into a woman and I am not quiet used to her reflection yet. There are so many things about her that I really like and had always hoped I would become. But there are a few things that I am not used to and never expected to see. I feel like I am looking out and the reflection that I am scrutinizing is not me, but someone else. When I close my eyes, I can see the girl that I looked like before; the one who found worth in the eyes of those that never really saw her. The one who believed that sitting at the captain's table meant you had arrived. I once believed that happiness was attained by my ability to tick off the things that I accomplished. I viewed my failures and my successes by the yardstick held up by those around me. Either by force or by need my views on a successful life have changed.

It began with closure, which is a great relief. It is also a great equalizer. I could still love him, if I didn’t have the knowledge that he is dangerous and narcissistic and treated me with as much empathy as you would a vase. I could still love him; if I only remembered the way he smiled or said my name. But that is not all I remember. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. It does however give you the distance to not loose your mind when you remember how it ended. You stop talking about it way before you stop thinking about it. You recognize the flaws that you saw the whole time with blaring clarity. You forgive yourself and then you finally move on.

There are some things that you will never get over. Some hurts that will stay with you like a red stain on white carpet. You can scrub the hell out of it, but there will always be that ting of pink in the pattern reminding you of what was spilt there. It is a reminder of how little you valued yourself and is a testament to surviving it.

Some changes are welcome. You change your view on love and compassion, partnership and stability. I love someone now just as much as I have ever loved a man, but it is paved with far different intentions. The passion of my 24 year old girlfriend, who wants that man with ego to make her crazy, is a notion that I find cringe worthy. I would rather have a reliable man in my living room than a self possessed novelty that will break my heart. Lust only lasts for so long, but friendship and commitment are worth coming home too.

The woman I have become recognizes the value of stillness and the honesty of silence. I now see arrogance as a mark of weakness instead of a bridge to adulthood. Strength is not owned only by those that take the lead, but is more often found in those that are willing to quietly walk away.